


Love, Lies and Lazers

by MadameSharknadoPotato



Series: A story of a found family [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Codependency, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameSharknadoPotato/pseuds/MadameSharknadoPotato
Summary: Grif and Simmons are never apart. It's been them against the world for longer than either of them care to admit. From basic training to Chrorus, they've only spend a very short amount of time not in each other's pockets, and prefer it that way. Grif isn't Grif without Simmons, just as much as Simmons isn't Simmons without Grif.But, of course, the universe doesn't always work in everyone's favour.Simmons receives an order to go on a mission without Grif, he is unsure how to handle the situation, and of course chooses to deal with it quite poorly.As a result, Grif is left to wonder if the man he loves is drifting away from him, or if he's done something wrong to cause the love of his life to start acting so strangely.The characters in this story are OOC.
Relationships: Dexter Grif & Dick Simmons, Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Series: A story of a found family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163378
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Simmons loves Grif, but makes terrible choices

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful people! 
> 
> This is my very first fanfiction ever, of all time, and I'm not really sure how to tag, so I apologise if I did it wrong. 
> 
> This is a multi chapter fic, I already have a few chapter written, and am probably going to follow the whole gang at some point, but I need to start with my favourite boys. 
> 
> There are so many fics with Simmons being a bottom, but let's be real, he has such an authority complex, I think he would most likely view being top as being in charge and Grif being Grif wouldn't give a fuck either way.  
> I'm also convinced that Grif is secretly a spoiled princess, as much as he tries to hide it, and as much as Simmons complains, I bet he loves to take care of his babe. 
> 
> I love constructive criticism, so please comment and let me know what you think. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.  
> Finally all RVB characters are owned by RoosterTeeth, blah blah blah.
> 
> Thank you for letting me share my story, and I hope that you'll join me for their ongoing adventures.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons has been distant, and Grif doesn't understand why. Unsure of how to deal with his emotions, he lets it out the only way he knows how...through his dick...

It happens like clockwork. It’s been like this for the past few years living in New Armonia. Every morning at approximately 0300, Grif wakes up either hungry, horny, or both. Every morning, Simmons will wake up from the movement, and will wind his arms tightly around Grif’s waist and kiss his nose, rubbing his hand up and down his back, coaxing him back to sleep. Every once in a while, Grif will lean in, bringing his hand up to cup Simmons’ cheek and will kiss him with all of the passion he can muster before the crack of dawn. Usually Simmons will tell him to go back to sleep.

This morning was different. Grif had been very obviously upset that night. Knowing something was wrong and unsure of how to deal with it, he was feeling as though Simmons was drifting away. All week he's been avoiding Grif, working late so that Grif will fall asleep before he goes to bed, going on training exercises with Wash little things that would set warning signs in Grif's mind. There are so many things he wants to say, but he can't seem to find the voice. Grif has always had a hard time expressing emotion through words, so he does the only thing that makes sense in his emotion filled, exhausted mind. He turns in Simmons arms and starts kissing him hard.

Simmons seemed especially receptive to the affection, sliding his hand from Grif’s shoulder blades to grasp his ass and pull him in closer. Grif gasps into Simmons mouth at the action, “Fuck me?” he whispers. Without hesitation, Simmons maneuvers himself on top of Grif, grinding his hips down hard, exuding a moan from them both. Positioning himself in between Grif’s legs, he reaches for the lube from the bedside drawer while Grif in the meantime pulls off his pyjama pants, and pulls down Simmons boxers enough to grasp his cock. At this Simmons halts all movements momentarily, before exhaling a shaky breath. “Shit, Grif, give a guy a second.” He chuckles out. Grif whines out impatiently. _He's really desperate tonight_ , Simmons thinks to himself while coating his fingers to prep Grif, trying desperately to ignore the guilt he feels building in his gut. Positioning his body over Grif’s, and bracing himself with one arm, he uses the other to slide between Grif’s legs, massaging his hole with his lubed finger. Grif starts to grind his hips in small circles hoping for Simmons to slip his fingers in already. The redhead has other plans and simply uses his mechanical hand to hold his hips down firmly. Finally, Simmons has some sympathy and inserts a finger. Moving in and out slowly, and sliding another finger in alongside the first upon re-entry, moving his body so that he's effectively caging Grif in with his mechanical arm at the same time scissoring Grif open. Breathing deeply, Grif wraps both arms around Simmons neck, holding him tightly while tucking his face into Simmons neck, spreading his strong thighs to allow for more sensation. Thankfully, Simmons was more than happy to comply with the brunet's silent request and penetrates his fingers deeper, curling his fingers searching for, _there it is_ , Grif lets out a shaky moan.

Licking into Grif's mouth, and pulling back slightly to bite his plump bottom lip before asking, "Baby, Are you okay?"  
"Shut up, just…please" Grif nearly sobs.  
"Okay, it's okay, I'm here." He whispers in reply, peppering kisses along Grif's stubble.

Grif is thankful he doesn't need to say anything. They've been at this for so long, they don't need to guess anymore. Without a word, Simmons kisses his lips, his jaw and neck as he slides his synthetic hand into Grif’s thick hair while he uses the other to slowly continue opening him up. Grif sighs softly bringing his hands to grab hold onto anything to ground him, eventually digging his fingers into Simmons' auburn hair. "Fuck, Grif, you’re so good, I love you so much." Simmons groans out, removing his fingers causing Grif to gasp in reply. Coating himself quickly, he lines himself up and pushes into Grif, clamping his teeth down on his neck and breathing hard, trying to compose himself. He takes stock of what's before him. Grif is laying on his back with his knees up, feet crossed behind Simmons' back. Simmons has moved his organic hand up to cup Grif's jaw, adjusting so that he can look into his eyes, and God, _why does he look so sad_? Simmons kisses his forehead and pulled back to look once more into his eyes, "I love you" he can't help but whisper again. Grif closes his eyes tightly and kisses him back with every emotion he can muster. Simmons knows what he means without him saying anything, and pulls out only to push in harder. Grif is holding on so tightly, his muscles will certainly be sore in the morning, but he needs to feel every part of Simmons right now. Simmons is having a hard time maintaining control, and starts to push in with more urgency, breathing hard and whispering "fuck" and "I love you" every other exhale. Grif knows how must sound whining and moaning, so fucking pitiful, but he can't seem to find it in himself to care. Tears start to trickle down his eyes, as Simmons presses their foreheads together. "Please, fuck, don't stop" he hiccups, voice cracking as he pulls Simmons as close as possible. "Oh God, Grif. Fuck. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you so fucking much. You feel so good. you're so perfect. Fuck." Simmons can't help the nonsense spewing from his lips as he thrusts harder into his partner. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Kissing Grif's lips, cheeks and under both of his eyes where the tears are falling from before kissing his lips again. The Hawaiian man reaches his hands up pulling Simmons hair, pulling him closer into the kiss before pressing their foreheads together. Simmons licks into his mouth tasting the salt from his tears and grinds in deeper and harder, feeling so close to exploding, he can hardly contain himself. A guttural moan escapes from Grif's chest as he throws his head back while Simmons bites into his neck hard. "Oh fuck!" he cries out as Simmons takes him apart bit by bit. Grif’s hand shoots down desperately in between them and grasps his own cock as his orgasm hits him and he starts to pump himself. "Come on baby, cum inside me." And oh if that doesn't do it for Simmons. Holding on tight, feeling Grif pulse against him, he spills inside, twitching slightly. He stays in place, not moving for a moment, kissing Grif on the temple. Finally he gently places Grif’s hips back down and removes himself slowly. Grabbing tissue from the nightstand, he cleans Grif up before laying on his back to clean himself up as well.

If Simmons was honest with himself, he would know exactly why Grif is acting this way. Earlier that week, Simmons had received an order that he would need to be off planet for a few days for a mission. Because he’s a fucking coward, he tried to spend as little time with Grif as possible since he can’t lie for shit. Finally that day, Grif had confronted him in their room. Simmons knew it was coming, but nonetheless was shocked when it happened.

  
"What the fuck, dude?" Grif had so eloquently stated.  
Simmons smiled at him in what he hoped was reassuring "What?" He asked innocently.  
"You've been avoiding me, asshole" Grif replied flatly.  
"No I haven't, I don’t know what you're talking about" Simmons replies dubiously.   
Grif looks at him incredulously "Seriously dude? You're a terrible liar. Whatever. Figure it the fuck out, I don't like you being so dodgy".

That night Grif had laid on his side with his back towards Simmons, something he only does when he's upset with Simmons.  
The Dutch-Irishman can't help the shame he feels bubbling as he recalls the exchange. He loves this man so much but he knows if he tells him the truth, there will be hell to pay. He's just trying to put off the inevitable, and just didn't realise how badly it would affect Grif. The guilt he feels is nauseating. Looking towards Grif who has once again turned his back towards him, blanket haphazardly covering his waist, Simmons sighs and curls in behind him kissing his shoulder.

"I love you" he repeats once more, believing Grif to have already fallen asleep. After a beat, he heats a soft reply, "I love you too" spoken the first time since Grif has woken up. He knows that Grif is upset with him, and he can’t blame him. They just need to wait a few more days. Simmons runs his fingers down Grif's ribs, down to rest on his naked upper thigh pulling him in closer and wraps both arms around his waist as Grif falls asleep once more. Kissing his shoulder one last time, Simmons shuts his eyes for a few moments before getting up to leave for his mission.

0500 Simmons dislodged himself and officially got up to get ready to leave for his mission. He looks back at his sleeping husband and the hastily scribbled note on the pillow next to him one last time before the guilt could overwhelm him. He puts his helmet on and steps out of the room.


	2. Grif is an emotionally constipated cinnamon roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons returns injured. Grif freaks out.  
> Also probably has a death wish.

Grif blinks his eyes open at 0600 to the sound of his maddening alarm going off, "Simmoooons, shut that fucking thing off." He whines out while moving his arm to cover his eyes. With the movement, he notices two things.

  
1\. He is in bed alone, which isn't terribly unusual, and;

  
2\. There is a piece of paper where his husband should be, which is definitely unusual.

  
Sitting up, he grabs the paper only to hold it an arms length away from his face. _Getting old fucking sucks_ he thinks to himself as he grabs his reading glasses from the bedside table. "Urgh. What the shit?" He groans, still feeling a little bit sore from a few hours previous. Flopping back onto his back, he brings the note up to his face and reads,

 _Gone on mission, see you in 3 days. Love, S_.

Grif blinks, dropping his arm before bringing it back up to his face, believing he must have misread. Nope. It was still just as ridiculous. Only his dumb nerd would hand write a fucking note. He can't help but laugh at the absurdity until his brain catches onto what the note says. He grabs his phone and dials for Simmons. Immediately the call is dropped. His device is disconnected. His mind is whirring with the possible causes.

DGrif: you better not be dead you fucking asshole. So help me, I will kill you.

Well, the message was sent, but was not received. Obviously something is blocking the signal. Shit. Grif scrolls through his phone looking for someone who might have an answer. Typing out a quick text to Tucker, he gets up stretching his arms over his head. The cool air hits his naked body and he is reminded of earlier that morning. Smiling slightly thinking about how sweet Simmons was, being so gentle and soft and, Grif face morphs from sleepy contentment to seething anger when it finally dawns on him that Simmons knew, the asshole fucking knew he was going on this mission, which is why he was being so distant. Everything starts to connect in Grif’s mind from the past couple of days. He had been feeling like he was losing Simmons, and he wasn’t sure how to bring him back. He was blaming himself for not being enough, and this morning, his emotions got the best of him, and he wasn’t able to hold back any longer.

He receives a response back from Tucker within minutes.

LTucker: Kitchen. Coffee. Now.

Grif throws his hair up in a top bun and throws on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt before pocketing his phone and heading to the communal kitchen in the Reds and Blues quarters in new Armonia.

The Reds and Blues have been outfitted with their own quarters inside the large base in New Armonia. They have been set up like a college dorm with each room containing two beds, a desk and two dressers. They've also been equipped with a small kitchenette situated in the common area central to the cluster of rooms assigned to the colourful soldiers. Grif makes his way down the hall to the shared kitchenette and plops himself down at the small table made to seat four. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" Tucker asks curiously as he walks in seeing Grif sitting face down, arms dangling freely between his legs. Grif briefly looks up to glare at Tucker before dropping his head back on the table making an audible clunk. Tucker brings a cup of coffee over to him. 1 milk, 1 sweetener because stupid Simmons and his stupid concerns for Grif's cardiovascular health, _but obviously no concern for his emotional health,_ his brain helpfully supplies. "I don't want to talk about it," he mumbles in reply. "Dude, what the actual fuck?" Tucker asks perplexed. Lifting his head, Grif snips out "Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d have less questions. Seriously, yes or no?"  
"Dude! It's fucking," Tucker looks down to his watch and scoffs, "it's not even fucking 0900 and you text me asking me for booze, no, more specifically, tequila? I come meet you, not to give you booze by the way, to see," Tucker fails his arms in Grif's general direction, "-whatever this is. Obviously something is wrong, and I'm not encouraging an unhealthy drinking habit, so fuck you."

  
Grif scowls at the shorter man and drops his head back onto the table "I liked you better when you were an immature prick." He groans out. "Yeah, and I like you better when you're not being a fucking bitch, but it seems like neither of us can do anything about that right now, so let's fucking deal with this." Softening his tone, he looks pitifully towards Grif, "What's going on?" Grif looks up, knowing he lost. Exhaling in defeat, "it's nothing, just-" Grif looks down shaking his head. Tucker squints his eyes looking questionably towards Grif who just shakes his head. When he receives no additional comment, Tucker continues, "Well it's obviously not nothing if it has you feeling this badly. Come on dude" Grif exhales, knowing that if he says the wrong thing, Tucker will find out about him and Simmons, and although they aren’t actively hiding their relationship, Grif is a private guy and has no desire to share intimate details about his personal life with his pseudo-friend by necessity, so he tries another method. "What do you know about the mission Red Team was assigned?" "Oh, uh not much. Wash was telling me that him and Simmons are leading a team of lieutenants off planet for something or another. I guess to see if there's anything we can use for New Armonia." Tucker squints his eyes, giving Grif a bizarre look. "Oh, okay, and this is supposed to take 3 days?" _Of course Wash would be responsible for this, Simmons idolizes that asshole_. "I don't know, he didn't really tell me much, why? What does this have to do with anything?" Tucker asks slowly, starting to piece things together. "Nothing, no reason, thanks for the coffee, gonna go now. KthanksBye." Grif stands quickly ready to bolt out of the kitchen when Tucker's hand shoots out and he steps in his path to stop the larger man from exiting. "Wait. Wait, wait." Tucker gives Grif a scrutinizing gaze. "Tucker, move." Grif says firmly. "Listen dude, I get that Simmons is your best friend," Grif rolls his eyes. _He has no idea_. "And I know you guys spend a lot of time together, but he's allowed to do things without you." Unable to hold back, Grif scoffs "I fucking know that, okay? I know. It's not what you think dude, just please stop. I cant talk about this. Not now, not with you." "Yeesh dude, chill out. I'm only trying to help" Tucker states while putting his hands up in surrender. "Well you're not fucking helping, so just, I don't know, just stay out of my fucking business!" The anger dissipates almost as soon as it had come, Grif's head falls in defeat, he takes a few deep breaths, "Fuck, I'm sorry dude, that was uncalled for." He says meekly, "I know you're just trying to be a bro." Tucker gives him an appraising look, giving Grif a small smile and patting his shoulder as he walks past.

"What is wrong with me" Grif says to himself once Tucker leaves the room.

Three days have come and gone. Grif has not stopped pacing. He can’t reach Simmons because of jammers or some shit. Kimball isn’t giving any details, and no one else knows anything. Saying he was freaking out was an understatement. So of course he did the only thing that any man on the brink of insanity would do.

"Um, sir?" Matthews cautiously approaches his captain who is mercilessly beating a punching bag in the training room. Wash would be proud. _Fuck Wash, this is his fucking fault_. "What private?" "Um, the team, we were uh wondering-" he coughs awkwardly and looks up towards his captain. His eyes are dark, red rimmed and heavy. His normally well maintained raven hair is in a messy bun at the top of his head with strands trailing down his face and neck sticking to his forehead from sweat. He is wearing a wrinkled maroon t-shirt that looks like it probably belongs to captain Simmons, as it was slightly too small, and was obviously slept in for at least a few days and a pair of grey sweatpants. Grif stops, turns towards Matthews crossing his arms across his chest and bites out "What, Matthews?" Matthews looks up at Grif with his big doe eyes and bites his lip while briefly turning his head, looking behind him towards his teammates.

Gold Team was understandably worried to put it plainly. Their normally apathetic, lazy captain was displaying characteristics of a man on the border of sanity. They needed someone to talk to their captain desperately. It's been almost a week and that he's been acting this way, and the team wasn't sure how much more of this they could handle. Matthews, of course, drew the short straw and as a result was chosen to confront their captain. The young private turns back towards his captain before taking a deep breath. "The team and I were wondering if there is anything we can do to help?" Grif's gaze softens a fraction before remembering he's supposed to be angry. "No. Leave." He grits out before turning back towards the poor bag he's been taking his frustration out on.

When Tucker finds Grif again, he is still beating the punching bag like it pissed in his cereal.  
“Yo Grif! Dude! What the fuck?”  
“What do you want Tucker?”  
“Can we talk? Your team is starting to come to me because they are fucking worried about you. Fucking Bitters dude.”  
Grif stops his assault and drops his head, hands at his side, with his back towards Tucker.  
"Please fuck off. I don't want to talk right now." Tucker puts his hands on his hips, “Do I really need to say it? You're fucked up dude. I don't know what's going on with you, I have my theories, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you've hardly eaten in 3 days. You've been beating that bag to a pulp for the past 2 hours. You look like shit, dude.” he finishes quietly. “It’s Simmons, isn’t it?” Grif turns his head to glare at Tucker.  
Putting his hands up in defense, Tucker continues, “Listen, I don’t need you to tell me the extent of your relationship, whatever it is, it’s not my business, but your troops are coming to me because they are concerned, and if I’m honest, I really hate seeing you like this.” Grif looks up, looking so tired. When was the last time he slept? He cant seem to remember “Dude, when was the last time you actually had something to eat?” Grif looks defeated, “I, I, uh, honestly, I don’t know.” “Alright, come on jackass, let’s get you some food.”

On their way to the mess hall, there is an announcement over the P.A.  
 _\- ATTENTION DOCTOR GREY ATTENTION DR GREY EMERGENCY SHUTTLE WILL BE LANDING IN ZONE X IN T MINUS 2 MINUTES -_

Grif and Tucker look at each other and both bolt towards the hangar. When they arrive, there is an emergency response team pushing a gurney off of the shuttle carrying none other than his redhead, looking so small, sheet white and covered in blood and dirt with his mechanical arm missing. Grif feels his chest tighten and his knees go weak. Thankfully, Tucker noticed Grif trembling and moved to get him to sit. “Okay buddy, come on, let’s sit down, okay?” “No, I need to go with him, I need to make sure he’s okay.” Grif's voice cracks slightly. Tucker sighs, Jesus, they don’t pay him enough for this shit. “Listen to me, Grif. Simmons is going to be fine. There is the best doctor in the galaxy working on him right now. If anything, he’s going to come out of this better than before.”  
Grif tries to slow his breathing, god, he's so pathetic “God damnit.” he says, mostly to himself.  
From the corner of his eye, he spots grey and yellow movement and immediately zeros his sights on Wash. “That motherfucker” he growls out. Following his line of sight, Tucker realizes what’s about to go down. Before anyone can stop him, Grif gets up and stalks towards Agent Washington. Pointing his finger hard into Wash's chest plate, he spits out, “Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn’t kick your ass right now, Washington.” The lieutenants start to look over while their chatter turns to murmurs and whispers. “Um. Hi Captain Grif.” Agent Washington greets Grif awkwardly, “Oh quit with the pleasantries asshole, what the fuck did you do to Simmons?” Wash looks helplessly towards Tucker who shrugs in response. “Okay, well, to answer your first question, you are currently wearing sweats, and I’m in full body armour, so it would basically feel like a mosquito bite-” “I’ll give you fucking West-Nile you prick!” Grif interrupts, Wash continues on without missing a beat, “-and to answer your second, I did nothing. Actually if it wasn’t for Simmons, probably half the team wouldn’t have made it. He nearly sacrificed himself to make sure everyone got out.”

At this, Grif sees red, “That mother fucking stupid idiot! I fucking told him” he nearly screams as he storms out of the hangar, throwing his arms in the air as he stomps in the direction they took Simmons. Wash looks towards Tucker whose gaze has not left where the scene just played out, jaw slacked. “If he wanted to keep his feelings a secret, he’s doing a really bad job.” Wash states matter-of-factly. Tucker just looks at him blankly and turns to look back at the doorway where Grif exited.


	3. Pretending like everything is fine is the Red Team Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons gets out of the hospital, and Grif is pissed with a capital BITCH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooow 3 chapters in 3 days, this girl is on a ROLL! 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story so far! 
> 
> I love comments and criticisms, so please feel free to comment!!

Groaning, Simmons blinks his eyes open and is immediately assaulted by fluorescent lights from the hospital room. His whole body is aching. Looking towards his right side, he cant help the dopey smile as sees a mop of dark hair resting on the cot he's laying on. A dark hand is loosely grasped in his, so he chooses to use his other hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. When he is met with no sensation, he looks down and notices a lack of an arm. Ah shit. He thinks to himself, and dislodged his organic hand from Grif's hold. He runs his fingertips along Grif's hairline moving his hair out of his face.  
Taking in the sight before him, he sees the dark circles under his eyes and worry lines across his face. Gently, he carrasses the crease of his brow with the pad of his thumb, unintentionally causing Grif to stir. Blinking his eyes open, Grif's piercing cerulean eyes bore into Simmons' own. "Hey," Simmons croaks out. "Hey." Grif groggily replies, sitting up to peck Simmons on the forehead. "How are you feeling?" Grif asks,  
"I should be asking you, you look like shit, dude." Simmons replies with a small smile.  
"Talk about looking like shit, you've obviously not seen a mirror yet." Grif quirks back.  
"Yeah I guess you still have all your parts," Simmons retorts back with a small smile gesturing towards his missing arm.  
Grif looks away without a word, frowning. Okay maybe not the right time. "I'm going to get Grey, I'll be back," Grif says without looking back towards Simmons. "Grif, wait," Simmons tries, but it's too late, Grif doesn't turn around. 

It takes a few days, but finally Simmons is outfitted with a shiny new arm. Looks and feels just as real as his organic arm, with a slight shimmer and no blemishes or freckles on it. Simmons is cleared from the hospital with strict instructions to take it easy. Grif will be glad about that, he thinks to himself.  
Bringing him home from the hospital, Grif is uncharacteristically silent. He helps Simmons into the bathroom and sits him on the toilet seat as he starts to fill the bathtub. “Grif, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry okay?” Grif ignores his apology and continues with his task.  
"Come on" he finally speaks for the first time as he helps Simmons out of his hospital gown and applying waterproof tape over the bullet wound on Simmons' side before guiding him into the tub.  
"Shit!" Simmons winces. Grif looks worriedly over towards him and makes sure he is fully seated before starting to remove his own clothing. “What are you doing?” Simmons asks  
"Move up," Grif replies. Simmons does as told and once Grif slides in behind him, is pulled back by Grif's strong arms to lay against his chest.  
Leaning his head back on Grif shoulder, he feels Grif's lips on his neck. "I'm still pissed at you, just so you know. You're a fucking prick for pulling that shit, so fuck you. But Jesus Christ, Simmons, I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you and I didn't know what I was going to do." Simmons is silent. He knows there is nothing to be said. Grif continues, "By the way, everyone thinks we're together now." At this, Simmons lifts his head and looks back towards Grif, "um, Grif? We are together. This isn't some fucked up way of breaking up with me, right? Because that would be a dick move, even for you. Also good luck trying to get me to sign the paperwork" Grif rolls his eyes. He knows what Simmons is trying to do, "Shut up. You know what I mean." Simmons can't help the small smirk on his face as Grif pulls him against his chest once more and closes his eyes while resting his head against the wall. 

"Come on, one more, you got this." Simmons pushes up from the last squat with a groan as Wash helps him put the barbell back on the rack.  
After a few weeks of rest, Simmons was cleared for personal training with Wash as part of his physio.  
"Well you're definitely improving. That was really good. Let's take a break and we'll start back up in 5."  
Simmons nods and takes his phone out of his pocket frowning.  
"What is it?" Wash asks as he looks up at Simmons. "Huh? Oh, it's nothing." Simmons quickly responds as he pockets his phone. Wash looks at him incredulously. Deciding not to push the subject, he starts, "so, uh, you and Grif," Simmons sighs, he does not want to have this conversation, with Wash no less, "yup" he replies, popping the "p"  
"Care to elaborate?" Wash asks in return.  
"Nope" he automatically responds, once again popping the "p" Wash narrows his eyes causing Simmons to let out a very masculine "eek!" Looking down in defeat, he continues, "Urg. It's just he wont talk to me." Simmons responds, obviously frustrated.  
"But I see you guys talk every day." Wash replies confused. "Yeah, that isn't talking. That is making appearances. Like it’s different. We haven’t even, you know, done like, intimate stuff, at all, it’s been over a month." Simmons is bright red at the admission.  
"Oh! Uh, right, um, yes, of course. You guys do that. Psh, obviously. Haha '' Wash very eloquently responds.  
Simmons drops his head. "Right."  
"Okay, well have you tried, you know, talking to him?” Simmons looks at Wash dully. Really dude? “Yes, Wash, I’ve tried fucking talking to him.” Realizing who he was talking to he quickly backtracks, “Uh, I mean, yeah, but he wont tell me what's wrong-" desperately trying to end the conversation, he continues,"-Think it’s been 5 minutes? Yeah probably. Ready to start back up? Yeah I think it's a good place to start up again." God, Simmons needs to chill the fuck out.

After successfully completing PT with Wash without further incident, Simmons immediately heads up to the room he shares with Grif. Upon entry, he is disappointed to find it empty. Pulling out his phone, checking his messages, he doesn’t see anything from Grif saying he would be out. Frowning, he sent a quick message.

DSimmons: Hey fatass, where are you?

Walking up to the dresser, he plugs his phone into the charger and grabs his laptop, he decides to get some work done, and sets himself at the small desk across from the bed. 

Two hours had passed, and still no word from Grif. He checks his phone, and sees that the message was left on Read. Simmons scoffs “Seriously? So fucking petty.” he says to himself. He decides to get up to search for his idiot husband.

Simmons looks all over the base, even speaks to the cooks who advise that Grif hasn’t been there all day. Confused and pissed off, Simmons heads to Grif’s usual smoking spots. No trace.

"Oh! Hi Captain Simmons! How can I help you? Are you checking up on the inventory list? I'm almost done today's count I'm sorry I didn't get it to you sooner." Jensen, such a great kid, always working hard. "At ease Jensen, I just wanted to know if you knew where Captain Grif was." "Oh! Uhh. I'm sorry Captain, I was under strict instruction not to disclose Captain Grif's location." Simmons narrows his eyes as Bitters pipes up, "What's this information worth to you Captain?"  
Closing his eyes for a moment, Simmons tries to compose himself. Fucking Grif training the kids to be sharks, Jesus. "What's he paying you? I'll double it." Simmons responds back immediately. "Nah," Simmons scoffs, "urg, fine, I'll throw in three weeks of unlimited internet, and you can use the captain's facilities for a month." Bitters squints his dark brown eyes and nods.

Walking up to Tucker's door he breathes out a deep exhale and knocks.  
"Oh, uh hey," Simmons stumbles out, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Tucker gives him a once over and moves to the side opening the door more to let him in. "Grif" Simmons breathes out. "Those goddamned sellouts" Grif grumbles in reply.  
"Grif, please, can we talk?" Simmons sounds so desperate, Grif almost feels bad. Almost.  
"There's nothing to talk about." Grif clips back getting up to push past Simmons  
"Grif?" He calls out. Grif keeps walking, leaving the Reds and Blues quarters to head to the mess hall, Simmons briskly following behind.  
"Will you please talk to me? I don't know what I did!" Grif enters the mess ignoring his husband. “DEXTER!!!” reaching his limit, Simmons pretty much screeches. Finally Grif stops, turns towards Simmons and crosses his arms over his chest. “What.” he says coldly. “Grif! I don’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” Simmons arms are flailing, finally landing in his hair. Grif gets dangerously close almost nose to nose. Simmons tries not to flinch, dropping his arms at his sides. “You seriously don’t get it, do you?” Grif looks hurt.  
“I don’t know what I don’t get. I apologized, I thought you forgave me, like you helped me, and as soon as I was okay on my own, you just disappeared. I don’t even know what you're mad about! You haven’t talked to me in days and you won’t tell me what’s wrong” Grif scoffs at this, “You’re fucking serious?” tears threatening to leave Grif’s eyes, “I wake up to a note. This fucking note” he throws the crumpled note in Simmons’ face “You hadn’t even told me that you were leaving for a god damned mission, and I find out with this fucking note.” Oh. Oh, of course. Fuck he still had the note. It's been over a month!  
“That’s what this is about? I thought we had dealt with that.” he says softly. Grif closes his eyes pinching the bridge of his nose,  
“No Simmons, you got over it. So fuck you. The note was bad enough, but no, you had to fucking sacrifice yourself, like an asshole.” Grif turns to walk away, while Simmons grabs Grif’s arm before he could leave, softly enough to allow him to continue walking away if he chose to do so. “How could I tell you? You would have tried to stop me if you knew what I was doing. It’s not like I wanted to hide it from you, but what other choice did I have?” Simmons responds softly.  
“I know. I would have, and I wouldn’t regret it. I can’t lose you, Dick, you’re all I have. You have this stupid hero complex where you need to put yourself in danger with no regard to how it affects the people who love you. What if you died, then what?” The tears are no longer sitting in the corners of his eyes and start falling freely. In barely a whisper he says  
“I’ve already lost Sister. I can’t lose you too. That would destroy me.” Simmons looks down, biting his lower lip. Glancing back up into Grif’s eyes, he grabs his hand, kissing his knuckles before putting his hand back down.  
“I know, and you won’t ever lose me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Frowning, Grif matches his gaze,  
“How can you say that? None of us knows what's going to happen.” In almost a croak. The knot in his throat is so tight that it’s hard to breathe.  
“You have no idea how I felt when I woke up that morning. All that was left of you was a stupid note. Nothing else. I was frantically trying to figure out where you went. You weren’t answering your phone. Then I find out that you were injured and they wouldn’t even tell me what happened.” Simmons looks down, ashamed. “I was afraid - I was afraid that I had lost you.” Simmons reaches his hand up to wipe the tears from Grif's cheek, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I honestly didn’t realize that it would have turned out like this. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. I love you so much.” Grif brings his hand up to cup Simmins jaw, and gives him a slow heartfelt kiss, trying to portray all that hes been feeling for the past month. 

"Well, this is fucking awkward," Bitters states to the other lieutenants and Matthews while watching the scene unfold from a few tables away. "Still worth it though." He says, before digging back into his meal.

Grif exhales deeply and rests his forehead on Simmons' shoulder, “I’m too young and pretty to be a widow, you bitch.” Simmons chuckles, sliding both hands into each of Grif’s and kissing the top of his head "You're in your 30s having spent almost half your life in the military, you're not young or pretty." Grif turns his hands and interlocks their fingers together "You're an asshole, you know that right?" He lifts his head to peck Simmons on the lips. When they separate, Simmons releases one of Grif's hands to guide them towards the serving area, "Its why you married me. Alright, well how about we get some food, I’ve heard some disturbing rumors that you haven’t eaten today, and we just can’t have that.” Grif and Simmons head to the serving area hand in hand, completely oblivious to the audience they had left behind. 

"Huh, well, that happened." Wash says, head tilted slightly.  
"Yup." Tucker replies taking a bite of the apple he took from Palomo's plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to end this part of the story here. 
> 
> I can't see ending it in any other way, and obviously I want my boys to live happily ever after because I love them so much! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, and I hope you join me in their future adventures as I continue the series. 
> 
> Much love xoxo


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